


America, Don't You Cry

by hiddencait



Category: Dredd (2012)
Genre: Cannibalism, F/M, Gen, Partners to Lovers, Pre-ship, movie level violence, off screen violence towards children, warning for mention of pain play - off screen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddencait/pseuds/hiddencait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Judge Dredd is undoubtedly the most dedicated Judge in Mega City One, so when DNA and a witness “prove” him to be a murderer, chaos strikes the Hall of Justice. His unofficial partner Cassandra Anderson is determined to clear his name, even if it uncovers the demon of his past – his twin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	America, Don't You Cry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ningloreth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ningloreth/gifts).



> First up - MASSIVE love to both my artist Ningloreth (who spoiled me like none other) (see her art here http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Het_Big_Little_Bang_2013/works/940305 and to Aoife who came through with an 11th hour pinch hit of a beta. Seriously you both are beyond awesome. 
> 
> Added love has to go to Urbancate as well - this fic now has a bonus fanmix from Dredd's POV! http://8tracks.com/urbancate/worthy-of-survival
> 
> As to the fic itself, it ended up much less shippy than I expected for this pairing, but I kinda found I liked it that way. Canon-wise, it's set in the new movie verse, but leans heavily on the plot from the original Sly Stallone movie. I did ditch the cannon point that both Rico and Joseph Dredd were clones, mostly because there's not even a hint of that in the new movie. Same with the variety of foods instead of everyone eating rations - I'm pretty sure I saw food carts/restaurants in the new movie, so I decided to throw in stuff that actually tasted good.
> 
> Anyway, hopefully the fans of the comics and movies will like this!
> 
> ETA: I can't believe I forgot to mention this - but yes two of the random side characters were a pair of detectives borrowed from The Unusuals. Because apparently Renner needs to make an appearance even when I'm not writing in one of his fandoms. Oi.

America, Don’t You Cry

Judge Cassandra Anderson braced herself against the wall by a door on the twelfth floor of the Riley megablock, and waited as patiently as she could for her partner to get into position at the back exit of the slavers den they were about to bust. Well, he wasn’t her partner exactly; Judge Joseph Dredd didn’t _need_ a partner. Not even the current Chief Judge would have dared to order Dredd to permanently hit the streets with the aid of another Judge. Casually assigning one of the few rookies to impress Dredd within the last several years to his habitual Sector 13 and just happening to set said rookie’s schedule to correspond with Dredd’s was another thing entirely. Holding the position of Chief Judge was all about strategy and tactics and the ability to maneuver stubborn Judges, or so the Chief had told Anderson when informing her of her new assignment and schedule. 

Anderson had done her best to stay out of Dredd’s way early on, but call it fate or the conspiracy of crime in their Sector, they kept ending up either working connecting cases, or being the only other Judge close enough to respond when the other called in for back up. After fifty or so of those situations, even Dredd had stopped pretending they didn’t make a good team. They still weren’t officially partners, but Anderson and Dredd rode their patrols as much together as they did apart. It saved time when shit hit the fan. 

As it had earlier this shift. Anderson had been the first to the scene after receiving reports of an undocumented child running from the Riley ‘block with two adults chasing him. The two perps had made the mistake of opening fire on the kid in front of her, and both bodies were now awaiting the meat wagon and resyk. The kid was in bad shape, but still alive enough to tell the pretty Judge where he’d been running from and why. 

The men chasing him had been slavers, and child procurers at that. Slaving happened more often than the law-abiding citizens probably wanted to know, but it was rare for an operation to grow as large as this one appeared to be, if the kid’s impression of his captors had been correct. If they could shut the bastards down, it would be a hell of a blow to the industry. 

Dredd had been finishing up the debrief from their most recent drug bust, but he’d arrived at Riley ‘block in time to hear the boy’s statement, and Anderson hadn’t had to read the older Judge’s mind to know he’d be right there with her on this bust. Both of them were orphans, and both knew they could easily have been in this boy’s place had they not been taken in by the Academy. At least the boy was out clean now, but there were at least a dozen other kids still stuck inside the according to their escaped victim. 

A dozen other kids, but hopefully only three or four more perps. Granted, the boy said the kids had been kept mostly isolated in the back bedrooms, so it was possible he’d miss counted, but if he was even close to right, she and Dredd shouldn’t have too much of a fight on their hands. She just hoped the fuckers wouldn’t try to use their property as human shields. 

She checked the time and judged it close enough. She didn’t close her eyes, not this close to a bust, but she did let her vision blur out as she reached for the familiar feel of Dredd’s mind. 

That had been one of the major issues between Cassandra and Dredd – whether or not she could or even would ever use her gift on him again after that first meeting before her final assessment. Much to her surprise, it had been Dredd who finally broached the subject to her, though only after observing her for several months on their patrols. He’d offered her free range through his surface thoughts – those flashes of insight and near conversation that tended to clutter up the forefront of most people’s consciousness – just as long as she never delved below the surface into the depths of his mind and memories.

Cassandra had agreed without any hesitation. That agreement was a large part of how effective of a team they’d proven to be. 

As she now had many times before, she settled her gift lightly into Dredd’s mind until she could almost see through his eyes. He could feel her there, or so he’d told her. It was the only thing that made a plan like this one possible – the fact that neither would have to speak or signal and possibly alarm the perps inside. 

Cassandra had to wait only a few moments more as Dredd took the last few steps up the stairs and then opened the door to the corridor leading to the back door of the slavers’ squat. He moved into position against the door, mirroring her position at the front.

Silently Dredd began to count down in his head. 5…4…3…2…

Cassandra spun and kicked the door in, weapon up and ready as she crashed through. There were two of the men in the front room, and those two quickly became none as both went for their weapons, forcing her open fire. Through the door to the kitchen, she saw the muzzle flash and heard the shots ring out as Dredd took care of at least one perp in that room.

He continued through and came to her side, nodding for her to continue to the bedroom. She didn’t hesitate, trusting him to cover her as she once again kicked down a door and rushed in prepared to kill if need be.

She didn’t have to, though part of her desperately wanted to. The boy had been right – there had been four of the slavers, but the last hadn’t been anywhere near his weapon. He was too busy testing out the merchandise. 

Cassandra took a sick pleasure in knowing the fucker wasn’t going to touch another child. Not that he’d be able to even if he hadn’t been destined for the Iso Cubes. The young girl he’d been abusing had taken her chance the moment the Judges appeared, lunging in and taking a page out of Ma-Ma’s book and emasculating the bastard with her teeth. 

It was another sick sense of pleasure knowing that after the sick bastard managed to leave medical, he’d go straight to Interrogation to answer their “questions” regarding the rest of the slaving operation. What the Interrogators did to him there would make him wish the Judges had killed him first. 

It wouldn’t make the children any less abused, but it was the single best outcome Cassandra could think of given the situation. Once the meat wagon and medical arrived, both she and Dredd took on the task of trying to figure out where the children had been taken from. None were from Mega City One or so Cassandra guessed. Several spoke the butchered Spanish dialect of Mex City, and at least one was whispering softly in what Cassandra would almost swear was Mandarin, likely placing the girl’s origin in Sino City, half way around the world. It was not a comforting thought to think that the slaving organization had been that international. The Hall of Justice would need to try to get cooperation with the other Halls if they wanted any chance of wiping out the entire operation. As tense as the various Mega Cities tended to be with each other, that wasn’t likely. 

“We get the ones we can. That’s all we can do.” Dredd’s rough voice startled her, and Cassandra had to force herself not to jump.

“You sure I’m the psychic?” she asked wryly, not quite having enough energy left to smile at him. Dredd snorted.

“Not hard to tell what you’re thinking. It’s always all over your face right there for anyone to see.” She scowled at him a little, annoyed at the less than subtle dig at her lack of a helmet. Really the man was like a dog with a bone with the subject of the damn bucket. It wasn’t like they’d have managed this plan if she’d had her gifts interfered with today, but it was just wasting her breath to bring it up again. One of them had to be the rational one. 

His lips twitched as he suppressed a smirk, and she shook her head, almost smiling now at the comfort just of being there beside him. Dredd’s side was becoming her place, that spot that she felt the most grounded, as if the solid presence of him and the feel of his mind was keeping her safe… keeping her _real._ Cassandra couldn’t explain it; or maybe just didn’t want to. It was enough just that it was. 

She sighed and stretched and turned, wanting to ask him if he wanted to grab lunch before they took their next call. Instead, the sound of his comm going off interrupted them.

“Control to Dredd. Chief needs you back at base.”

“Dredd to Control. I copy and I’m headed in. ETA in 20.” 

“Copy that. Control out.” 

Dredd straightened and turned to Cassandra. “Guess I’m heading in.” 

She nodded. “I’ll finish mopping up here and then head that way. Up for grabbing a meal before we head out again?” 

“Yeah.” He didn’t say anything else, just turned and walked off, foregoing any goodbyes as always. 

Cassandra shook her head as she watched him walk to his lawmaster, swinging one of his long legs over the bike and riding off. A soft tug at her elbow pulled her attention away from her partner’s retreating form, and she looked down to find one of the rescued children trying to get her attention. The grubby little redhead was one of the few who’d been able to speak English clearly, though she mumbled now, as if embarrassed to have to share her news.

“Miss Judge Lady, Kisa’s being all sick and stuff.” Cassandra looked where the little girl was pointing to find the mini-Ma-Ma throwing up against the side of the building. Looked like shock had worn off sooner than the medics had figured. Cassandra would chew them out later for letting the young girl out of their sights. She looked back down at the redhead and smiled softly. “Thank you for telling me. I’ve got her.” 

The redhead suddenly beamed, looking like the little girl she should have instead of the timid and terrified victim she’d been only moments before. 

“Thank you Miss Judge!” She hugged Cassandra’s leg and then ran off back to the milling group of the rest of the rescues. Cassandra grabbed her water bottle and a small pack of tissues out of the seat compartment on her lawmaster and then strode over to the blonde huddle against the wall. Cleaning the girl up wouldn’t take long. It was just a shame healing would take so much longer. 

Nearly an hour of child herding later, the children were finally loaded up in a transport and headed off to the hospital and on to an orphanage after, and Cassandra was finally free to get on her bike and head back to the Hall of Justice. The drive was easy and the route one she could practically ride in her sleep. In the early days, she’d worried she’d never be confident driving around the mess of highways and low-income megablocks that made up Sector 13, but now she knew the streets as well as she knew the Hall of Justice or had known the Academy. 

If she ever found herself lost … well she just borrowed a mental map from one of the locals. 

Less than 20 minutes later, she drove through the gates of headquarters and headed to park in the massive underground bay. Dredd’s lawmaster was parked where it always was, and she pulled into the spot next to his – one that had been habitually empty until she’d been transferred to Sector 13. It amused her to think that Dredd had been intimidating enough that the other Judges hadn’t even wanted to park nearby. It was even more amusing that he hadn’t ever really noticed the avoidance dance the other Judges had done. The first time she’d dared to pull in beside him, he’d just shrugged and said that the spot was free most of the time if she wanted to take it.

It had been one of the first offhanded remarks from him, the ones that little by little told her she’d earned his respect and perhaps even his friendship. Assuming Dredd saw them as such – even a psychic had trouble reading that far into things with him. Cassandra knew she was his friend, even if it wasn’t consciously reciprocated as such on his end. 

She left her bike behind and headed to the elevators. Waiting for one to arrive, Cassandra felt a hint of an ache creep up her neck, something almost like a fist clenched against her back or in her gut. She shook her head sharply as the elevator arrived, trying to ignore the feeling. The feeling began to get worse as the elevator moved upwards to the midlevel where the Chief’s office was, the knot in her gut sharpening to more of a knife, and the weight around her neck almost suffocating her. She reached the right floor and stumbled out of the elevator car, ignoring the quizzical looks some of her fellow Judges gave her as they moved to take her place in the elevator. 

Cassandra took a few halting steps to the middle of the hallway and then turned way from the direction of the Chief’s office, instead heading to the stairwell and up the flights to the floor above where the main interrogation rooms were located. The invisible noose around her neck dragged her forward and down the hall to the third room. Unable to stop herself she knocked on the viewing room door, her hand shaking enough that the single knock she’d intended ended up coming out as several staccato raps. 

After a moment the door opened, and the Chief Judge stood before her, the dark skinned woman’s cool eyes unsurprised to see Cassandra standing there.

“I wondered when you’d arrive. You better come on in, then.” The Chief turned back into the room, and Cassandra followed hesitantly after, the pounding in her head almost crystallizing into mournful whispers. 

The Chief didn’t offer her any explanation, just nodded to the window into the interrogation room. There was the answer to her gifts going utterly haywire. At the table, stripped out of his uniform into PT gear and unarmed for the first time in her memory, sat Dredd. His head was in his hands, and his dark hair was sticking out at odd angles as if he’d near torn it out in frustration. 

He wasn’t wearing restraints, Cassandra saw, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a prisoner. Every inch of his posture told her he was devastated, ripped to shreds by whatever had taken place to bring him to the wrong side of the interrogation table. 

He looked so young, she thought. Looked so small. She knew Dredd to be tall and broad shouldered, almost larger than life with the uniform making him even taller, even broader. Judge Dredd was a force to be reckoned with, but this man? This defeated man looked small, looked fragile. 

She didn’t want to know what had brought him to this, didn’t think she could bear it if he’d broken faith with the law they both swore to protect. 

“Why is he in there?” she didn’t want to know, but she had to ask. 

“You tell me,” the Chief answered, her face giving nothing away. 

Cassandra swallowed, her eyes fixed on that single point in the other room. Could she look, she asked herself. Could she dare to read him right now, in the depths of despair that he’d reached? 

She straightened her shoulders. Yes, she could. She had to if only to prove to herself that this was wrong, this was all a horrible hideous mistake. Dredd didn’t belong in there. She just had to prove it. 

Cassandra took a deep breath, barely realizing that she’d stepped forward to softly place her palm against the glass. Then without even a glance to the ranking officer beside her, she opened her mind and reached for Dredd. 

There was no light within him, not now, not even the faded glow of the lamp that always lit the cozy apartment that had surprised her the first time he’d let her anywhere near his head. Now there was only a cold biting emptiness that chilled her to the core. 

“Not again,” she heard in her mind, in a rough and broken voice she’d never have guessed to be her partner’s. “Not again, not again, not again.” 

Cassandra turned in the space of his mind and found his image curled up on the floor, knees tucked up against his chin and his hands tugging at his hair as he rocked. His pained mumbling continued as she stepped closer, her footsteps making no noise in the suffocating nothingness. She knelt before him, not quite surprised to find he was smaller than she was. Whatever had happened had ripped away his self assurance, leaving him feeling literally diminished. 

She swallowed back the pain in her throat at the thought and reached forwarded carefully, even psychically knowing better than to startle this man. 

“Dredd,” she whispered softly, “Joseph, look at me.” Slowly, so slowly she felt she might scream before he finished the motion, he raised his head to meet her eyes, his own red-rimmed and hazy. She didn’t want to know he hadn’t let himself cry in the interrogation room, hadn’t wanted to see the streaks on his cheeks even her in the safety of his mind. It didn’t matter now; Cassandra had seen it, and knew she would never forget the sight. “What’s wrong?” she asked, wondering if he’d even be able to answer. “What happened?”

The lesser Dredd stared at her for a long moment before he spoke, his voice as rough as it had been before. 

“I’m a murderer. Just like him.” She flinched back, and he sunk his head back down again. “Just like him. Now you know. You know, so go away.” 

To her shock, she felt his mind suddenly shove at her’s, and Cassandra fell back into her head without warning. She swayed, nearly falling, but the Chief’s strong hands caught and steadied her. Cassandra shook her head to try to shake out the images she’d seen, but she didn’t doubt she’d been seeing the pain in Dredd’s eyes for a very long time to come.

The Chief allowed her to collect herself and then demanded “Well?”

Cassandra hesitated, hardly knowing what to say. “He… He thinks he’s a murderer. Just like ‘him’ though he didn’t say who he was.” She shook her head, completely at a loss. The thought of Dredd taking an innocent life was beyond repugnant to the point of complete absurdity. “But, it’s _Dredd_ ,” she said, looking to the Chief for some sign that this was all just a bad dream, “and he’s not capable of something like that. He’s just not.” 

The Chief didn’t comment on the way Cassandra’s voice had gone steadily higher and more panicked the longer she spoke. Instead, the older woman turned to look through the window again. The she dropped the bomb. 

“A witness claims to have seen Dredd rape and murder a young woman last night outside of a club near the Mirage Quarter ‘block.” 

Cassandra blinked, wondering how the Chief could have missed the obvious. “Well, they’re lying obviously. Dredd shut down two drug trafficking rings maybe 6 months ago. It’s revenge. Has to be.” 

“They found DNA at the scene and on the woman.” 

Cassandra’s mind went blank. “But that’s… Sir, that is just not possible. It’s not.” 

“It is, apparently. There was another possibility-”

“Well, what is it? It has to be the answer!” 

The Chief shook her head, and Cassandra fell silent. “It isn’t. I wish it was, but Rico’s clean of this one at least.” 

“Rico? And ‘this one?’” Cassandra felt like an idiot, knowing she’d yet to complete a full sentence in the past few minutes, but everything about the situation was short-circuiting her usual calm under pressure.

“So the scuttlebutt never made it’s way to your training group then? I wondered if the story would eventually die out. I suppose this mess with dredge the story up again. Shame, even if he’s guilty, I would have spared him that if only for his years of service.” 

“Sir?” Cassandra asked softly, forcing herself not to peek for the answer in the Chief’s head. The other woman was another of the few who could sense Cassandra’s intrusion into her mind – this was not the time to betray her privacy. Even if clearly the other woman’s answer would be betraying Dredd’s. She didn’t want to hear any of this out loud, but the Chief was already speaking, and it was too late to stop her.

“He’s a twin. Joseph and Rico Dredd, both Judges, both at the top of their class.” The Chief shot her a sideways look as if expecting disbelief. Instead Cassandra had gone silent and serious. Now that the Chief had begun the story, she realized she had heard some of it back in the Academy. Mutters and rumors of a Judge gone bad, horror stories about the brother who’d taken him down. “Rico was a better Judge than he was, you know. That’s what started the problem. He became convinced he could tell who’d end up going bad, that ‘preemptive executions’ could save time and energy for the Hall of Justice.” 

“I’ve heard Judges say that kind of thing. It’s just talk after a bad bust usually.” 

“Usually,” the Chief agreed. “But Rico decided to go through with it. Started with a small time dealer, then a pimp. Later a couple of men he thought to be pedophiles but couldn’t find the evidence to prove it. Finally it was the stable of girls the pimp had run. They hadn’t stopped hooking, and he figured that was crime enough.”

Cassandra shivered. “He was escalating. In numbers and in excuses to kill.” 

The Chief nodded. “He wasn’t going to stop. Didn’t think anyone would catch him, and no one would dare accuse him. He was Judge Rico Dredd. The best of the best.” 

“Except for his brother.” 

“Except for him.” 

Cassandra opened her mouth to ask the next logical question, to point out that this missing twin was clearly the answer to this hell of a day but the Chief shook her head sharply and then frowned. Her voice as she spoke was almost gentle.

“He’s in an Iso Cube in Mega City Two. I checked the security footage and prisoner contact logs myself before I called Dredd in. Rico’s locked up tight. For life.”

Cassandra wanted to argue again, to bring up all the ways a man in Iso could possibly escape, but the Chief’s frown deepened and Cassandra knew better. The matter of Rico Dredd was apparently closed. Unless she could find evidence to the contrary. And Cassandra was better than most Judges at that particular skill.

“I want to talk to the witness.” 

Only now did the Chief give a small smile. “I thought you might. He’s four floors down. One Mr. Jewel Santos. He’s got to face the Iso Cubes himself, but only for a year or so – he took a plea for possession and unlicensed solicitation rather than armed robbery in exchange for any information the Hall of Justice might need. He’s not exactly a flight risk, but I thought it best to keep him in protective custody just in case.” 

With one last look through the mirror at her dejected friend, Cassandra strode out of the door after the Chief. As they left, Cassandra noticed several Judges stationed at the doors to the interrogation and viewing rooms. It said a great deal about her bond to Dredd that she hadn’t even noticed their presence in her rush to answer the need that had drawn her to that door. She shook off a shiver at the thought that her gifts could take over her conscious will so strongly. She’d never had tunnel vision quite that strong before. 

The elevator ride down to one of the other interrogation floors wasn’t as uncomfortable as it could have been in the powerful presence of the Chief. Cassandra has spent more time with the imposing woman than most Judges her age. Her gifts and sheer will to wear the uniform had drawn the Chief’s attention for better or for worse. Either way, it made it a bit more comforting now – clearly the Chief was in Dredd’s corner, and she apparently trusted Cassandra to help. 

Off the elevator and down the hallway, and then Cassandra saw another set of Judges on guard at the doors to the interrogation room that held their witness. Cassandra wondered whether it was really the witness that was in custody… or others on the force. It wasn’t like Dredd endeared himself to all of the Judges on the force. There was hero worship sure, but there was also resentment and fear. The corrupt Judges Cassandra had dealt with at Peachtrees were far from the only ones in the Hall of Justice. They’d just been the only ones stupid enough to come after Dredd openly. Eliminating the possibility of a proving a witness was lying? That struck Cassandra as just the kind of roundabout sabotage of the case that would suit the kind of Judge who was on the take. 

Course they could just be planning to silence a snitch. Either way, Cassandra didn’t blame the Chief for leaving the witness with guards. 

“Has he already gone through full interrogation?” Cassandra asked as they slipped through the door into the viewing room. Her answer was a deep sigh and a wave towards the window.

“Wasn’t possible.” The Chief’s lips curled, her disgust at the lack of normal, albeit rather brutal, procedure. “He was soliciting at Kushiel’s.” 

Cassandra groaned and turned to look through the class at the witness. Santos was thin and Cassandra guessed to be in his mid-thirties, though he clearly tried desperately to look mid-twenties. Probably relatively attractive to those who liked the type that would be found dancing and serving the clientele at a place like Kushiel’s. Painfully fit the type with enough scars and piercings practically littering his heavily tattooed skin that Cassandra was hard pressed to see any “undecorated” skin. 

“Masochist. Shit.” Kushiel’s was an S&M club of the darkest side, one that guaranteed all their “toys” were legitimate masochists, the kind that would breeze through a normal instrumented-interrogation (the more PC term for what Cassandra knew to be torture) and simply ask for more. It made questioning a possible perp decidedly more tricky. No wonder the Chief had been waiting for the Hall’s most powerful psychic to help. “Have any of the other Psy Ops officers taken a look yet?” 

“Not yet. I wanted the best.” 

The Chief didn’t bother to look at Cassandra, but the younger Judge knew she was blushing anyway. Comments like that were rare from the Chief – rare and absolutely earned if she bothered to utter them. It was definitely an ego boost, but one Cassandra didn’t dare dwell on. A trick of genetic mutation was enough to keep the Chief’s approval. That she, and everyone else, had to work for. 

With that in mind, Cassandra nodded once, mentally readying herself again for another psychic search. With the Chief standing silently beside her, Cassandra closed her eyes and opened her mind, sending it seeking the thoughts of the witness chained to the table in the other room. 

She reached the barest surface of the other mind and then found herself shrieking in pain as blast of light or electricity flashed from the surface of the man’s mind and went straight through her. Cassandra reeled, falling to her knees in the viewing room, going all but blind in the midst of the staggering pain crashing through her head. 

“Anderson! Anderson, answer me!”

Cassandra faintly realized someone was trying to get her attention, and that a hand was under her arm, but damned if she could remember how long they’d been speaking, or how long that hand had been there. She knew she’d blacked out, and likely lost at least a minute or two to the pain that had paralyzed her. She would not being trying that again, she decided. Not any time in the next year or so, anyway.

She vaguely became aware that it was the Chief who had her arm and was carefully lifting her up to lean against the glass of the window while one of the guards outside hurried over with a chair. Cassandra might have been embarrassed to have needed help lowering herself into the seat, but the looks on both of the other Judges’ faces held nothing but concern and maybe the slightest hint of fear. The strange Judge, a man maybe a few years younger than Dredd, but blonde and nowhere near as tall, silently held out a paper towel. Cassandra stared at it in confusion before taking it gingerly, her hands not quite steady as she did so.

“For your nose,” the Chief finally said after a few moments of Cassandra doing nothing but hold the towel. 

“My nose,” she said faintly, hardly recognizing the ragged sound for her own voice. She touched her nose gingerly and her fingers came away red with blood. “Oh.” Cassandra blinked and lifted her hand to press the towel under her nose. She didn’t even want to look to see how nasty her uniform was. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d bled on it, nor the last. Just probably the first time she’d done so unknowing. 

“So,” the Chief asked quietly, “going to tell me what the hell just happened?” 

Cassandra dared to peek over her shoulder into the room next and the stranger sitting at the table. Santos looked nervous but not more so then he had been before she’d started the mental search. If he’d felt her in his mind, he gave no sign of it. She’d just have to take his body language as fact unfortunately – trying to read him again was out of the question. 

“He’s a mutant,” she managed to say. Both the Chief and the stranger cussed violently, all but turning the air blue. 

“How didn’t we pick this up?” the Chief snapped, and both Cassandra and the stranger winced, wishing to be anywhere but in the room where their superior had clearly lost her vaunted control. “How could we possibly have missed that the bastard is psychic? A strong fucker too if he knocked you this far on your ass.” 

Cassandra winced again, not all together thrilled that the Chief was right. Just not quite in the way she thought she was.

“His ability is passive, maybe even unconscious,” she explained hoarsely, still holding the towel pressed to her nose. “It’s not like any of the psychic in Psy Ops, not an ability he can use, I don’t think. More like… like static on the edges of his mind, only at the level of a couple hundred tasers.” Cassandra bit her lip, half wanting to keep her mouth shut, but feeling like she needed to be honest. “I might be able to break through it. If I was fresh and had a week to recover. Maybe longer.”

Both the Chief and the other Judge groaned, the man also cursing again, this time under his breath as if her news had taken all the wind out of his sails.

“We don’t have that long, do we?” Cassandra asked, already knowing the answer.

The other Judge spoke, his voice almost as rough as her’s. “The Council of Judges is calling for a trial tomorrow morning. I had a hard enough time getting them to agree to even that much of a delay. With the DNA evidence, they were pushing for immediate sentencing even without a psychic verifying the witness testimony.”

“You did that much, Walsh. It was all any of us could have managed when the Council is up in arms like this.”

“Witch hunt, huh?” Cassandra said, feeling the weight of exhaustion and a despair that felt much like Dredd’s had. 

“Yep. The story got leaked by someone – the Council thinks it could lead to riots if they let a Judge off for murder.”

“Even though he didn’t do it.” 

Walsh looked apologetic. “You may think that, and I may think that, and even the Chief may think that. The evidence says otherwise. He’s already been proven guilty.”

“I could testify. I may not be able to read this fucker, but I can read Dredd and-” Cassandra broke off as both Walsh and the Chief shook their heads slowly.

“It was already dismissed as an option by the Council. You’re biased.” She raised an eyebrow as Cassandra tried to protest. “Justifiably, but still the bias is there. There’s no psychic strong enough to verify your testimony as truth - and I doubt you’d enjoy an interrogation.”

Cassandra crumpled up the paper towel, wishing it was the nebulous throat of whoever was putting Dredd through this mess. Her nose bleed had finally stopped, but that was the only good news she could see at the moment. “None of the other Psy Ops will testify on Dredd’s behalf?”

Walsh shook his head. “Only a couple dared to offer, but Dredd shot them down. Said he doesn’t trust anyone inside his head. Anyone but you, I should say.”

“Thus the bias,” the Chief said softly. 

Again, Cassandra felt herself blushing. Dredd’s trust was every bit as hard to earn as the Chief’s approval. It was a shame she wouldn’t get to enjoy any other signs of that trust any time soon. She suppressed a sob at the injustice that she knew was taking place. She stood slowly, hoping her knees wouldn’t give out on her again. She gave one last look through the window at the witness she wouldn’t be able to prove to be a liar. There wasn’t anything else she could do here. Better to stand by her partner while she could.

“Can I see him? I know it’ll be under guard, but… He should know someone believes in him whatever happens tomorrow.” 

The Chief considered it, the silence almost making Cassandra scream as she waited for the other woman to come to a decision. Finally, finally the older woman nodded slowly, causing Walsh's eyebrows to rise. The Chief shot him a sharp look, but the blonde just held up his hands in surrender. 

"I didn't say anything about the kind of bad idea that could be. Nothing at all." He shrugged. "Even if I had mentioned that the Council might take it amiss, well, fuck it, I'm in your side. Or her side, or his side, or who-the-hell-ever's side that knows Dredd didn't possibly fucking do this. So yeah, let the rookie see him. He needs a friend, and she's the closest thing he'll admit to one." 

Both Cassandra blinked at the sudden outburst and then shot each other sideways glances. Walsh just shrugged again and turned away scrubbing at the back of his neck. 

"He's a fucking hero, and I owe him my life, alright. He doesn't deserve this shit." He knocked his head against the glass. "And call me crazy, but the fact that someone's managed this kind of frame job gives me a really bad feeling."

"You and me both," Cassandra said tiredly. "You and me both." 

"Well, we'll just have to figure it out," the Chief said, as if it was really just that simple. Cassandra supposed that for the other formidable woman, it usually was.

"Guess so. Just not in time." Neither of the other two Judges had anything to save after Cassandra's soft pronouncement. It was too unfortunately true. 

"Alright, enough standing around staring at those ugly ass tattoos. I'll take her back up, Sir."

"Thank you, Walsh." The Chief eyed Cassandra one last time before turning and striding out the door as if it had personally gotten in her way on this particular case.

"Ok, come on. He'll brood himself into a corner with or without us, but you might manage to get him to eat something." Walsh led the way back down the hallway and to the elevator. He looked her over as they waited for it to arrive. "You look like you could use some food too. When's the last time you ate?"

"I guess ... breakfast - around 5:30 this morning before my shift?"

"And let me guess, then you worked through lunch and dinner. Why does that not surprise me?" He shrugged as they stepped into the elevator. "That's fine. Not like we can feed Dredd with the rest of the perps in the holding tank. That's just asking for a bloodbath. Safer all around for us to order in for the pair of you."

"Thanks. He'll appreciate it."

Walsh snorted. "He won't give a shit. But it's nice that you apparently do. Got a preference?"

"Dredd likes the mongolian beef at Chau's."

"I can do that. How 'bout for you?"

Cassandra shrugged, not sure she'd be able to eat with the churning in her stomach. She'd need to give some kind of answer though; Walsh didn't look like the kind to take no for an answer. "Umm, an order of the crab puffs with soy sauce maybe? That's about all I can eat." 

“Mongolian beef and crab puffs with soy.” He nodded once. “I’ll get Schraeger on it. With me dealing with the fall out with this cluster fuck, she’s been stuck at her desk all day. She’ll owe me one.” 

Cassandra didn’t bother to ask who Schraeger was. She was probably Walsh’s partner, in whatever sense of the word. It wasn’t her business either way. Sticking her nose in was decidedly less tempting with her nose as gross as it currently was and her head still pounding. 

The elevator came to a stop and Cassandra filed out behind Walsh, ignoring the running dialogue of who knew what that he’d kept up since mentioning Schraeger. She also tried to ignore the sideways looks from the Judges they passed. Clearly the word about Dredd’s arrest was spreading, and judging from the suspicion in their eyes, about half of their fellows thought Cassandra was being taken in as well. She didn’t blame them – if they really thought Dredd was corruptible, then anyone could be. 

Walsh finally came to a halt in front of the interrogation room where Dredd was being held. 

“Go on in, Anderson. We’ll have the food up for you shortly.” He glared at one of the guards who looked about to protest his casual announcement that the prisoner could have a guest. “The Chief cleared it. Take it up with her if you want to argue. I don’t have the patience right about now.” 

Cassandra was tickled to see the taller Judges back down from the shorter figure of Walsh. She wondered how she’d missed him and his partner around the Hall. They must either have been a new pair or work one of the northern Sectors. Shame, she would have enjoyed seeing he and Dredd interact more often. Walsh might have been able to startle Dredd into a laugh every now and then. 

She shook her head as Walsh called her name, apparently for the second time judging from his raised eyebrow. “I said go on it. You change your mind now?”

“No, no, I’m going,” she said quickly and stepped forward as the door was unlocked. Then it was opening, and she could not show weakness by hesitating in front of the other Judges. She’d be strong. She wanted them to remember that she had no fear of her partner. It was the right kind of impression to leave to the inevitable gossip-fest. 

The door closed behind her, but she hardly noticed, her attention was too fixed on the man slumped in front of her. 

“I thought we were done with questioning.” His voice in her ear was every bit as rough as it had been in her head, though the fear was buried underneath sheer emotional exhaustion. At least she hoped it was exhaustion; she didn’t want to think of Dredd being tortured like some perp. Besides, it would have been pointless with the amount of evidence the Council already had against him. Traditional interrogation would have just been cruelty in his case instead of anything like a search for answers.

“As far as I know you are. It’s just me for a while,” she said softly, walking over to drag the chair from the far side of the table and moving it cattycorner to his, hoping that would soften the look of the room the slightest bit. She didn’t think it was really working.

His head had snapped up at the sound of her voice and footsteps, but Cassandra found she couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bring herself to meet his defeated gaze. She was so used to him as the unstoppable force at her side or her back. Vulnerability was going to be hard to take. 

“Can’t stand to look a murderer in the face, huh? Can’t say I blame you.” 

That had her eyes darting up. She wouldn’t have thought he’d believe that of her, that she’d be as easy to convince he was a murderer as some of the others might have been. He flinched back as if her gaze was akin to a slap in the face, and she couldn’t help it, she reached out and grabbed his hand, needing some kind of contact to help her get through to him.

“I’m here because I trust you. I know you’re innocent, Dredd. I know it.” She tightened her hold on his hand as he made an aborted move to pull away. He sighed, and slowly shifted his hand until it was holding her’s back.

“I was only innocent until proven guilty. They’ve got proof, Anderson. Plenty of it.” 

She shook her head, not wanting to hear it from him. “What they have is DNA from a man who has an identical twin, and a witness who’s conveniently immune to most traditional interrogation and apparently psychic-proof. That doesn’t sound like irrefutable evidence to me.” 

Cassandra mentally cringed as she finished speaking, more than a little pissed at herself for handling her information so … indelicately.

“The Chief told you about Rico.” It wasn’t a question as much as a resigned acceptance. She just nodded, unable to do anything else.

“I think I’d heard some of it back at the Academy. Never connected it to you though.” 

“Yeah, most people don’t. Not unless they were there for the mess.” He squeezed her hand again. “Thanks for trying, but the Chief told me he’s still secured.”

“Still don’t buy it,” she said stubbornly. “It’s the only explanation that makes any kind of sense.”

He shrugged again. “Doesn’t matter. Not an explanation the Council will take.” He shook his head. “No proof.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “The witness was psychic-proof?”

She touched her nose again self-consciously, knowing she probably still looked like a fright.

“Mutant, some sort of anti-psychic. Hurt like nothing I’ve ever come across before, and I couldn’t read anything through the static.”  
“Intentional?” he asked, and she could practically see the wheels in his head turning.

“Honestly I couldn’t even tell you that. His body language through the window looked clueless to me trying to read him and my reaction after, but he could have faked it. I wasn’t in the best shape to tell.” She shrugged again, trying not to let her self-doubt show too much – she’d hoped she’d have something concrete to tell him, that she’d have an answer that could get him out of this bullshit.

The witness should have been the weak link – the easiest way to prove that someone out there was playing with evidence and framing an innocent and honorable Judge. She should have had answers. Instead she’d ended up with a migraine and a nosebleed and nothing useful to show for either one. 

She’d let him down. Cassandra looked down at her free hand, suddenly unable to meet his eyes, wishing for the first time that he was wearing the damned helmet he so rarely went without. She didn’t want to see his disappointment reflecting in his eyes without that shield to hide them. 

A knock at the door saved her from having to figure out anything else to say, and she stood to fetch their dinner from the petite brunette that stood at the door, bag in hand. Cassandra murmured her thanks, and the brunette nodded back before closing and locking the door behind her. Cassandra went back to the table, dinner in hand and allowed herself another respite in the motions of setting out the take out and the bottles of water she found with them. 

She and Dredd ate in the same easy silence that was their normal habit. Good food was something to be savored, or so her parents had taught her. It was one of the few good memories she had of them – her mother and father laughing in the kitchen, chasing each other back and forth, both of them claiming the credit for cooking the delicious meal that followed. The memory brought the slightest smile to Cassandra’s lips as she nibbled on the crab puffs she’d ordered. They tasted good with the soy sauce, a tasty blend of sweet cream cheese and salty sauce, but she had a feeling the memory was making it better than usual. 

That or she just wanted their dinner to taste better than usual – wanted one last decent meal for him before his trial and sentencing. The realization almost killed her appetite again, but she forced herself through it, trying to hold on to the memory of her parents in hope of breaking free of her gloom.

It didn’t really work, but at least Dredd seemed to relax with the meal in front of him. Some of the hard angles of his shoulders eased up a little, and he allowed himself to slouch as he ate. She gave a silent thank you to Walsh for offering dinner – Cassandra would owe the other Judge a favor eventually. She’d think of something.

They finished their meal, and then spent the rest of the night in relative silence broken only occasionally by conversation. It was a comfortable silence, one that in part had made them the team they were – that near psychic connection between them that often made speech superfluous. If there wasn’t a case, the quiet moments between them came more often, she’d noticed. Nailing a perp required at least some chatter; their free time was just that – free. If she or Dredd didn’t want to come up with topics of conversation, they just didn’t. 

It was a trait that had isolated Cassandra in the orphanage and later at the Academy. The others had thought her silence meant she was either using her gifts to spy on them or simply felt herself too good to talk to them because she was a psychic.

And Dredd? Well Dredd was just intimidating to begin with, and his gruff reticence tended to intimidate people even more. Dredd gone completely silent was something civilians and criminals alike backed slowly away from. So did most Judges for fuck’s sake.

For Cassandra that had lasted all of … oh … three hours into the shitstorm that was Peachtrees. After that point, she was too busy staying alive to be intimidated. And after? Well, after, she was still alive, and fuck if she wasn’t still a Judge on his recommendation. It was hard to see him as a figure to fear after that. They’d kept each other alive, had patched each other’s wounds and shot at people who were shooting at them together. It formed a bond.

One that hadn’t, and still didn’t, need much in the way of words to hold it together. 

Another knock at the door, this one heralding breakfast and the fast approaching end of Dredd’s relative freedom. Breakfast was a more mournful that the Chinese food had been; all Cassandra could think of was the foul tasting protein rations that only the dredges of society were forced by poverty to eat, and that would soon be Dredd’s only meals in Iso. Please let his sentence be Iso, she thought, her eggs catching in her throat as if to choke her.  
Then it was time to go. Cassandra stood, not wanting to deal with the indignity of being forced out by Dredd’s escort of Judges. Before she could leave, a hand caught her arm with the barest of touches. 

“Anderson… Cassandra.” The unfamiliar sound of her first name in his voice was a shock that had her stopping short. She turned back and finally met Dredd’s hazel eyes. She couldn’t name what she saw there, but it both calmed her fears and at the same time set her raging against what fate had wrought against him. He rubbed his hand softly down her arm as if to calm her. As if anything could. 

“Thank you,” he said softly, a depth of meaning and things unsaid buried underneath those two words. 

She swallowed, those unspoken thoughts causing her tongue to stumble. Finally she managed a reply. “You’re welcome.” 

Cassandra turned away and hurried out the door, hating how little she’d really been able to say to him, and just hoping it had been enough. 

She couldn’t stand with him during the trial; it stung, even though she’d expected the Chief’s words. Instead she stood at attention out in the gallery with Walsh and Schraeger and who know how many other Judges who’d gathered in support of their accused fellow. Behind the dais that held the Judges’ Council, other Judges were gathered to show their belief in the accused’s guilt, and Cassandra had to rein in her anger at the group of doubters.

Unfortunately it was that second group that would see their version of justice done. As they’d all expected, Dredd was found guilty of murder. The single proud moment Cassandra could remember was Dredd calling out that he was “not guilty” without even the slightest hint of hesitance. She hoped the Council and those standing behind them would remember that certainty in his voice. 

The Council withdrew to discuss the terms of Dredd’s sentence, and most of the others took the opportunity to drop into chairs or to withdraw all together. Only Cassandra and Dredd were left standing, backs straight and proud as a proper Judge should. She almost smile at that – even in ill-fitting exercise gear and wearing restraints, Dredd still looked more official than half of the Judges present. 

After what seemed like a lifetime, the Council filed back into the hall, their faces still set in the same grim masks they’d held throughout the trial. A steel-spined woman who looked to be in her late 60s though still fit enough to kick around any rookie stepped forward to make the pronouncement of sentencing.

“Former Judge Joseph Dredd is hereby sentenced to life in Iso. Since his work here in Mega City One makes it … unlikely that the local prison would be completely secure, arrangements have been made for his sentence to take place in Mega City Two. Effective immediately.” 

It wasn’t a shock, but Cassandra felt herself sway all the same, her strength suddenly threatening to fail her. Dredd still stood unyieldingly at attention, and she kept her eyes fixed on his back, hoping to gain some of the strength he was still showing. The guards came to escort him away through the complex to the runways she remembered were located on the very edge of the Judges’ complex. 

As she lost sight of him through the door at the far side of the hall, Cassandra felt her paralysis finally fade, and she suddenly spun, looking desperately for the Chief. She had to ask her – had to take one last chance.

Once again, as if knowing what Cassandra would need, the Chief had left the others of the Council and stood only a few feet behind her. Her face was even more seriously than it had been during the trial, and Cassandra felt dread begin to grow in the pit of her stomach. 

“I need you to go with them,” the Chief said, and Cassandra almost forgot to breathe. “Something still doesn’t add up. Someone worked to hard to pull off this frame, and we still don’t know why. Add in that the little rat of a witness is on the same transport, and I worry that someone might try to tie up lose ends from Mega City Two once they are out of our jurisdiction.” 

Cassandra swallowed and nodded. It made a terrifying sense that someone might try to cover their tracks by eliminating Dredd and Santos. Suddenly her urge to go running after Dredd made a more sinister kind of logic. She was the psychic after all; maybe something had warned her. Anything was possible with a mutant of her strength – her powers were constantly evolving and changing, from the vague near empathic sense of who might harm her when she was just a child, to the ability to look through other people’s minds, to the true communication she’d discovered she could share with Dredd. Who was to say an instinct for a threat towards herself or her fellow loyal Judges was out of her reach?

Cassandra decided to think it through further once they were on the transport ship; it was a thought worth investigating. The Chief gave one last warning for the younger Judge to be careful, and then turned and walked off into the crowd; the clear dismissal freeing Cassandra to take off at a trot through the Hall of Justice to the hangar bay and airstrip at the very rear of their complex. 

She’d been to the airstrip on a few occasions over the years, usually while traveling from the Academy to the Hall of Justice and back on various training missions and more focused assessments that needed to take place on site. 

Cassandra had never been on a prisoner rated transport, though; she remembered being told they were a different model than those that they transported Judges and Cadets on. It looked like she’d find out what it was like firsthand. She hurried out of the hanger to the side of a large cargo type plane with massive rotors within the wings. She paused a moment on the tarmac, intimidated by the size of. Surely it didn’t need to be so damned large. After all, they were only transporting two perps, right? Well, a perp and Dredd. 

She stepped forward again and moved to find the Judge in charge. The formidable looking man with the checklist seemed to be the right person to ask, and she strode to him. Cassandra opened her mouth to explain her presence, but the Judge just shook his head and waved towards the entrance to the transport impatiently.

“Finally. Load it up, Anderson – no time for any extra delays.” A little shocked that he’d known to expect her, she jogged up the steps and into the plane. The other Judge followed closely behind her, drawing up the stepladder and securing the bay door. “Already had to delay too long waiting for the fucking trial to end. W got a full house today, and the perps get jittery when they wait on the ‘strip too long.” 

Cassandra managed to nod like she knew what the other Judge was talking about, and just followed along as he led her down a narrow corridor and through another hatch to a passenger cabin with perhaps half a dozen or so other Judges near the front of the transport.

“Those of us not in restraints are up here – most secure part of the monster, ‘sides from the max security section. Himself is back in Max.” The Judge turned and gave her a long look that told her exactly who’d he’d been referring too. “Don’t you worry – the Chief told us what’s what and could be happening. He’s as safe as we can make him for the journey, and the rest of us on board will keep him guarded ‘till he reaches Iso. The least any of us can do, right?”

Cassandra realized he seemed to finally be waiting for a response and she nodded quickly.

“Right.” He nodded back, apparently satisfied with that single word. He jerked his head towards a locker on one interior wall of the cabin. 

“Flight suits are in there. Get your gear on and then strap in. I’m up to tell the pilots we’re all stowed, and then we’ll be taking off. It’s a good couple hours to the Iso Complex in Mega City Two. Might as well get some shut eye if you haven’t lately.” 

Cassandra watched him go and then made her way over to the locker he’d indicated, trying to ignore the stares from the other Judges. She liked that the lead Judge seemed to share the Chief and Walsh’s sense that Dredd was innocent, but it didn’t mean she liked being the center of attention. She wondered what the other Judges made of her – if they’d been gossiping about Dredd’s unofficial partner before she’d come in. It didn’t matter; they didn’t matter, she told herself fiercely. 

She flipped through the heavy flight suits, looking for the smallest size. Finding one she pulled it out and began the arduous task of pulling the damn thing on, grimacing just a little at the weight. The suits were insulated with lead, a necessary evil for any transport going over the Cursed Earth of the rad zone outside the walls of the various Mega Cities. Cassandra had hated the things when she was in Academy, and that had hardly changed now. They were almost unnecessary for a mutant like her – it was one of the few bonuses for anyone who survived radiation poisoning long enough to show a true mutation. They tended to have a much higher tolerance for the radiation levels. There were even rough colonies of mutants living out there. She knew that first hand. The Academy final training mission was also a raid to clear out such illegal colonies. It had been one of the few times she’d been in better shape in training than most of her fellows, even as weighed down by the suit as she had been. 

There was a downside to the lead lining to the suits for her. The lead inhibited her gifts almost as much as the standard issue Judges helmet. She’d heard rumors the backers of the Psy Ops division was trying to work out helmets and flight suits that would accommodate or even enhance psychic abilities, but so far, Cassandra guessed it was all just so much noise. 

Cassandra finished securing the various fastenings on her flight suit and then glanced at the helmets at the bottom of the locker. She grimaced again but retrieved one anyway, not wanted to deal with the level of disapproval the lead Judge would likely send her way if she went without. Not that she’d be the only one forgoing the bulky head gear. Easily half of the Judges strapping themselves into the seats had apparently decided they didn’t need them either. Cassandra debated on putting it back, but shook her head at her own waffling. 

“Just sit down and strap in,” she ordered herself under her breath. Better to just wear the fucking thing and get the transport moving. Cassandra moved to one of the few open seats in the compartment – probably due to it being in the center of a row. Judges liked their elbow room as much as the next citizen, but at least Cassandra was relatively slender compared to the Judges around her. Even in the flight suit she wouldn’t take up as much room, and it was better than sitting right next to one of the strangers who’d been staring at her since she entered. She sank down into the barely padded seat and strapped the four point harness on then pulled the helmet on, frowning at the immediate and unfortunately familiar sense of mental deafness. It was going to be an uncomfortable few hours; just like every other flight she’d experienced as a rookie. She’d hoped that landing a permanent position as a street Judge would mean she wouldn’t need to deal with the unpleasantness of air transport anymore. 

It just went to show how much she was willing to put up with for Dredd’s sake. The thought reminded her again of why exactly she was strapping in, and she closed her eyes and hoped he was at least somewhat comfortable even back in the perps’ compartment. Hell, he might be back even more comfortable than the general population of perps. A flight was one of the few times maximum security might be more comfortable. At least he wouldn’t be tempted to kill that sniveling rat Santos if he was in a separate section of the transport. 

A voice came over the speakers warning everyone to strap in and that take off would be in 2 minutes. Cassandra leaned back as far as the seat would allow and kept her eyes closed, preparing for the gut churning that always accompanied lift off for her. In what seemed to be far less than just a few minutes, she felt the rumbling of the transport around her and then g-forces pushed her even farther back into her seat. The gravity seemed to squeeze her head into an even smaller space within the helmet, and she bit her lip to keep from whimpering against the pain. She did _not_ enjoy flying, damn it all to fucking hell. 

Around her, she could vaguely hear the other Judges bitching and moaning too, and at least one making use of the biowaste bags tucked into the back of each seat. Her stomach churned even more at the sound and she bit her lip even tighter to keep from barfing right along with him.

Finally the racket faded and the transport seemed to level out. She let out a sigh of relief as at least some of the g-forces eased off, and she crossed her arms across her chest and tried to get comfortable enough to maybe get a little bit of sleep. The long full shift yesterday and the sleepless vigil with Dredd in interrogation were starting to catch up to her now that the restless energy of the trial was over and done with. 

She just wished the trial had ended better for her friend. At least he was still alive, she reminded herself as she drifted off. 

A sound pulled her out of her light doze, something like a sharp whistling in the air. She sat up and looked around and noticed the others seemed to hear it too. It was getting louder, and Cassandra almost thought it sounded like a-

“Missile lock – hang on!” the lead Judge roared, and the roar of an explosion drowned him out. 

Cassandra heard herself and those around her screaming as the transport rocked with the force of the missile impact. Then they were falling, the harnesses the only thing keeping them in their seats. Keeping most of them in their seats – one idiot has unstrapped when the flight leveled out. He was lost through a hole that the descent tore into the hull. Cassandra watched him vanish and then squeezed her eyes shut. 

Then the transport reached the ground with a sickening crunch. Cassandra, thankfully, blacked out and knew no more for a long while. 

She came awake all at once and groaned as her stomach rebelled and she barely managed to turn her head to the side to vomit instead of doing so down the front of her flight suit. She opened her eyes gingerly and felt her head swim again from vertigo. Everything seemed topsy-turvy and spinning, and she closed her eyes shut again to try to regain her equilibrium. The churning in her stomach eased a little, and she opened her eyes a crack. 

It hadn’t been vertigo, she realized. The transport, or at least the portion of the wreckage she was strapped into had landed and buried itself half on its side in the dark gritty sand of the radiation zone. Cassandra’s seat was now nearly a third of the way up towards the ceiling thanks to the way the compartment had landed. She blinked for a moment, trying to think of an easier way to get herself down, but then finally just cursed under her breath and hit the latch to release her from the harness. 

She swallowed a shriek as she slipped over the armrest and across another few seats before crashing awkwardly to the new floor, mercifully missing the puddle of her vomit from moments before. She lay here a moment, her body all but creaking in pain. 

“Gotta get up,” she moaned, “gotta get moving.” She’d done drills for this. Everyone did drills for this; she just had to remember how they went. Cassandra managed to roll and get her legs underneath her and then pushed up to all fours and painfully dragged herself to her feet using the backs of the seats beside her as a crutch. “OK up we go. Catch your breath, Anderson. Take a breath.” She smothered a hysterical laugh as she realized she was starting to sound like Dredd now. She’d clearly spent way too much time in his company if she was even talking like him. 

Cassandra managed to take that deep breath as she’d ordered herself to, and then straighten to look around. What she saw had any desire to laugh dying in her chest. She didn’t know how long she’d been out, but she was far from the only one who’d been knocked unconscious. Those out cold were hardly the majority though – too many had forgone their helmets, she realized. Judging from the blood and bruising and the grey tone of their skin, those Judges were not going to be waking up ever again. Cassandra forced down bile, fighting the impulse to throw up again at the view of so many bloody uniforms and corpses. She’d seen piles of the dead before; Peachtrees had only been the most dramatic of her cases from hell, not the only one she’d had to deal with. But this … this was the most of her fellows that she’d ever seen injured or killed at once. It wasn’t going to be easy to deal with in the long run. PTSD be damned, she thought. She needed to figure out if anyone was even left alive. 

She reached out with her mind and then frowned as her gift seemed dampened, almost out of reach. Then she shook her head and thought she might have hit her head harder than she’d thought to forget she was still wearing the fucking helmet. She pulled it off and let it fall to the ground unheeded as she swayed at the sudden nearly overwhelming awaking of her abilities. The wave faded down to the normal manageable level of mental noise, confusing at first, but simple enough to filter out if she tried. 

First things first, she thought, figure out who was still breathing. She did a quick headcount and then frowned. They were missing bodies or so she was almost certain. It was possible one or two more had been sucked out of the cabin during their descent, but still, she only counted 4 bodies tucked among the wreckage of the seats and compartment wall. She thought there should be at least three or more. One of the bodies sent a brief hint of life to her and she stumbled her away over to find that the lead Judge was curled up near the front of the cabin, just barely breathing. She wasn’t sure if he’d managed to unbuckle himself or been thrown free, but the impact against the wall had clearly broken more than a few bones. There was blood on his lips and leaking from his nose too, and she bit her lip, knowing he wasn’t going to live much longer. Frankly she was surprised he’d lasted however long it had been since impact. All she could do now was try to make him comfortable. She knelt carefully and tried to ease him onto his side. He groaned and his eyes flickered open beneath his helmet. He blinked at her and then tried to speak, the effort causing him to cough, a horrible wet sound in his chest and more blood flecked on his lips. Finally he shook his head, given up on speech. He made a light movement with his hands towards his head. 

Cassandra tilted her head, trying to understand, and he frowned, still fierce even in his last moments. He motioned upwards towards his head again and mouthed words she finally guessed to be “read me.” 

“Read me?” she echoed, wondering what he meant. The Judge snorted weakly and motioned at his head again. She blinked and then realized. “My gift. Right, sorry.” 

He managed to roll his eyes weakly at her, unimpressed by the psychic who’d dithered as he died in front of her. She stripped off one of the gloves from her flight suit and then reached out to brush her fingers against his forehead. She didn’t normally need physical contact, but she’d found it gave her an added boost. She needed it now. As she touched him, his eyes finally flickered closed, and she had only a brief glimpse of his thoughts before she felt him die. It was enough of a glimpse though; he’d managed to tell her without words what she most needed to know – how to get into the maximum security cells to try to free her friend. She stared down at the Judge whose name she hadn’t been able to ask. Now it was buried under his flight suit, and she’d never get to know who he was. She’d find away to look him up once they’d made it back to the city. They would make it back, she decided. There wasn’t another choice. 

Cassandra straightened, and then moved to leave the compartment, pausing only to physically check to make sure each of the bodies was in fact a corpse. The lack of bodies still bothered her, but she figured that investigation could wait until she had Dredd free. He had to be alive. 

He had to be. 

She drug herself through the wreckage to the prisoner compartment, finding more bodies there as she’d expected, but again, there were fewer than she’d have guessed. And no survivors or wounded. She wondered if she’d been missed by the survivors or whoever had come along to drag people from the wreckage. But out here? That didn’t make any sense – not unless the transport had managed to communicate the attack with the city before they’d gone down. As quickly as the transport had crashed, that didn’t seem likely. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind to be investigated later. She did one quick pass of the bodies to do a signs of life check on them too, and then pushed her way past a tangle of wreckage to reach the door to the max security compartment. She’d worried for a moment that the locking mechanisms might have been damaged in the crash, but after looking at the things, she wasn’t sure much of anything could have damaged them. 

She pulled open the keypad, grateful that the lead Judge had already told her there was a separate power source for this section of the transport. Without it, Dredd would have been stuck in there until help could arrive. She didn’t want to wait that long. Cassandra entered in the numbers she’d seen in the lead Judge’s head one at a time, carefully of the shaking of her hands. She entered the last number and then held her breath, still afraid the door might fail after all. 

After what seemed like an age, she finally heard a creak and then the door eased open a crack. She grabbed the handle and pulled, struggling against a door that was far heavier than she’d expected. She managed to open it all the way then looked inside and stopped in her tracks. Inside were only two people, correction, were two people. Now there was only one.

Dredd leaned against the wall, his restraints hanging loosely from his wrists as if someone had felt it wasn’t worth chain him up too tightly. It had likely saved his life. The other man in the cell was one she recognized from a past case of theirs – a true sociopath who’d only been left alive due to a promise of information regarding missing victims. He had not been pleased to be caught and had sworn to end Dredd and Cassandra anyway how. 

He hadn’t been properly restrained either, Cassandra noted, and she wondered at that sign that yet another person must have been willing to watch Dredd die horribly. 

Unfortunately for the mystery conspirator, they’d underestimated Dredd’s hand to hand skills. The perp’s neck was visibly broken. 

She sighed at the sight, and the stumbled forward to all but collapse against Dredd’s chest. He lifted his arms up clumsily, the loose restraints still hampering his movements slightly and then wrapped his arms around her. 

“We’re alive. We’re alright,” he whispered into her hair, and she had to forced back a sob at the sound of another human living voice in the midst of the carnal house she’d woken up in. “We’re alive.” 

They didn’t stay there long. The wreckage wasn’t anything like secure, and the added foreboding Cassandra continued to feel regarding the missing bodies had both of them hurrying to salvage what they could from the transport before setting out to find something like shelter before nightfall. 

A few hours of hiking through the heat and dust later, they’d finally found a spot that looked to be somewhat secure. They split duties – Dredd scouting out the area outside the immediate location, and Cassandra lighting a fire and pulling out the rations and water they’d be able to spare for a small meal. The amount of food was pitiful at best, but at least the water should last a while. 

Her few tasks complete, Cassandra could feel exhaustion creeping over her, sinking in even past the stimulants they’d taken at the crash site. She tried not to think about it, to focus on the danger at hand. They needed the edge her abilities gave them out here in the savagery of the Cursed Earth. Even the most powerful of the mutants that eked out their survival in this forsaken place would need to fear the kind of telepathy she possessed. 

As an early warning system, she was almost impossible to beat. Granted, the little shit Santos had proved she couldn’t read every mind, but she could still sense him as a living being. She had a feeling that if forced to choose between losing Dredd or her own life and using her gift as a weapon – she could probably still manage to kill Santos with just her mind alone - and if she could break through the hell of a mental static that his mind caused for her, well, then she could do it to any one. 

Cassandra just needed to stay awake long enough to do so. She shifted, trying to find an even less comfortable position on the rocks in the small cave in along the line of small mountains or large hills that Dredd had chosen for their shelter. As if the thought summoned him, she heard the heavy sound of his footsteps coming towards her from the mouth of the cave where he’d been trying and failing again to force some power through the battered emergency radio. Mega City One should have been well within the comm’s range, but between the wind and the radiation, she didn’t have much faith in the tech actually working. It had been a common problem for the senior cadets at the Academy of Justice when they’d taken their hell week out in the Cursed Earth. If they could handle the radiation sickness, then they’d fall prey to depending too much on their equipment and so ending up near-hopelessly lost when both nav and comm went down. 

She shook her head, trying to shake away the memories of her hell of a time at Academy. Dredd raised an eyebrow at the movement, and she flushed.

“Just … thinking,” Cassandra said, giving up on trying to explain. He tilted his head to study her and then nodded.

“Yeah, me too.” He lowered himself carefully to sit beside her against the cave’s wall. Dredd just breathed for a moment, his respirator hissing softly in the quiet of the cave. He reached up to scrub a hand through his hair. “The tech’s out.” 

It was Cassandra’s turn to nod. “Were you able to be a better fix on location before it died?” she asked softly, just barely managing the energy to ask.

“We’re maybe 25 miles or so to the wall. They must have only been waiting for us to get clear enough that the city wouldn’t be damaged.”

Waiting to shoot us down, Cassandra thought. Wanting to shoot him down, more like. Someone back home really didn’t want Dredd making it to Mega City Two alive, even if his destination there was an Iso Cube.

“Someone wants you dead.” She blinked, surprised to realize she’d said it out loud. “Sorry,” she apologized, sheepishly.

“Don’t be. You’re right.” He looked over to study her again, and she watched his eyes narrow over the line of the respirator. “You need to rest. You look about to crash.” 

Cassandra tried to shake her head, to remind him that they needed her on watch, but Dredd wasn’t having any of it. 

“I’m just human, but I got eyes and ears. I can watch our six while you rack out for a couple hours. I slept on the transport.”

She eyed him, and he shrugged, now looking away to escape her eyes. They both knew that last was a blatant lie. The damned transport hadn’t even been in the air a solid hour. In any case, the last place he’d have been able to sleep would have been in restraints on a prison transport on his way to life in an Iso Cube. Cassandra sighed, unwilling to fight him about it. 

She let her head slide down until she leaned against his arm. The insulated flight suit he wore wasn’t anything close to comfortable beneath her head. The calm center of his mind, on the other hand, that was familiar enough to soothe and send her sliding towards sleep. This time, she didn’t resist it. 

When Dredd finally woke her, it was well past midnight assuming her chronograph was still working properly. Dredd had apologized for not letting her sleep longer, but she’d waved off his frankly stupid apologies and all but badgered him to passing out while she took the next watch. She’d only barely been able to seen him in the light of her chronograph, but the shadows under his eyes had been disturbing. She needed him to get his strength up sooner rather than later and told him so. In the end, she was fairly sure it was a desire to be able to watch her back later that finally convinced him to sleep. 

In any case, she was better for the four or five hours he’d given her; it was amazing the difference even that little sleep could give after twenty-four hours or more awake. Cassandra could manage to stay awake until dawn. In the dark of the cave with the wind whistling outside the entrance, she settled in, purposefully choosing an even less comfortable rock to sit on, using the discomfort to help keep her sharp and focused. She sent her senses out around them, and was grateful to find no signs of life for at least a mile out. That was about the maximum distance her gifts could range, especially in the shape she currently was. It was far enough that they’d have decent warning if anyone or anything approached though. It was a little worrisome that there weren’t any life signs considering the missing Judges and prisoners, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that. She and Dredd might be able to search a while once the sun came up. 

The thought of Dredd had her drawing her mind somewhat back to her physical location, and she was amused to realize Dredd had slowly slid down until his head was on her own shoulder, and now was sliding even farther down by the sheer weight of him. She shook her head and allowed herself a silent laugh before gently pulling his head down into her laugh. The more comfortable he was, the better rest he’d get, she told herself, and then wondered what exactly she needed to justify about this mess. 

Cassandra stroked her fingers softly through his hair, glad he’d felt safe enough to sleep in her presence. She made herself admit that this hell of a day and a half was forcing them closer than they’d ever been. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it, but Dredd was the most important person in her life now. What role he’d be willing to play in her life was still up in the air, but she realized as long as he was nearby she’d be content.

As long as he was near. She sighed – looked like she had an even more pressing need to prove him innocent again. At least she liked a challenge, she told herself. 

Sunlight was just barely beginning to creep into their found shelter when Dredd suddenly jerked awake, his hands clenched into fists and his jaw forced shut to keep from screaming. Cassandra kept still knowing all to well how hard it was to come out of the kind of nightmares all Judges tended to have after earning their badges. The nightmares was just a fact of life, but that didn’t mean it was any easier to watch or to accept knowing someone else had seen him have them. It would be especially hard for someone as private as Dredd. 

So she just waited silently for him to recognize where he was and who was with him, and the softly called his name. He turned to her slowly, face carefully blank over the shame she guessed he’d be feeling. She chose to ignore it.

“Sun’s up. We should probably get moving,” she said softly. 

Dredd scrubbed a hand across his face and readjusted his respirator from where it had slid down as he slept. His throat was probably raw from breathing in the dust, Cassandra noted with a frown. It was disconcerting to realize she was in far better shape right now that he was. She’d have to try to make him let her take the brunt of the work while they were out here. The radiation levels would decrease they closer they got to Mega City One, but he’d still likely taken in far more than was healthy already just turning the crash and the night. She was glad he was still wearing his flight suit, but those weren’t designed for long term wear. 

Cassandra stood and reached down a hand to pull Dredd to his feet, ignoring the annoyed look he sent her for her unasked for aid. 

“Eat a ration bar while we walk, OK?” she advised, and then handed him one of the ones she had scavenged from the wreckage, refusing to let him hand it back to her. He ate it grumpily, moving the respirator out of the way with each bite. The rations were totally unappetizing, but the protein would help with his energy levels, and there were vitamins that might help fight the effects of the radiation for a little while at least. She’d give her partner whatever leg up she could, even if she had to fight him to do it. 

Cassandra led the way out of the cave and into the sand, rocks, and scrub of the radiation zone. She was always surprised to see the hardy plants out in a place like this; it was easy to forget that eventually the radiation would likely fade until new life could survive. The desert plants that were clinging to life out here was proof of that. She remembered her history lessons and knew that the island that used to be known as Japan had several cities that had come back after nuclear attacks. Life was always possible. 

That could be a dangerous fact out here, she reminded herself and sent her gift out to scout ahead again. It was only just in time; just under a mile out, she found traces of people heading in the direction that she and Dredd had taken from the crash. She turned back to tell him, and he frowned.

“You recognize any of the minds out there?” he asked, and she reached out to investigate the people more closely. What she found had her mind racing back, and her steps picking up pace. 

“Mutants,” she said breathlessly, “looking for survivors. Looking for … for food.” Dredd scowled.

“Cannibals. That would explain the missing wounded.” Dredd looked in the direction she’d indicated the mutants were coming from, and Cassandra couldn’t even guess at his thoughts. “There might still be people alive. We have to check it out – you know we do.” 

Cassandra shuddered. She’d known about the mutant colonies out here, and she’d heard the ugly rumors about just how those mutants managed to find enough food to survive in the wasteland, but she hadn’t wanted to believe those rumors were true. She hadn’t encountered any of the surviving mutants personally during her Academy final, and she guessed she’d just assumed she never would. That Dredd now wanted to track those presumed cannibals back to their camp was almost more than she could handle. 

“How do we get them to show up their camp?” she asked hesitantly, hating how small she sounded at the thought of them.

“You’re the psychic, Anderson. You don’t have to ask,” he reminded her snidely, and she flushed, knowing she should have had the information already.

She just … she didn’t want to consider that but for the mercy of fate, she might have been eking out her own Godforsaken existence outside the city walls after her parents had died. Cassandra could handle knowing she wasn’t quite human, but it was another thing entirely to willing face those who might have been like her, but instead gave up even the most basic human creeds. 

“Anderson, they could still be alive.” She hadn’t realized Dredd was right beside her until he spoke softly and laid his hand on her shoulder.

“I know; I know. I can do this.” She steadied her nerves and gave his a sharp nod. He nodded back, and with her eyes locked on his, she sent her mind back to the approaching mutants. “There’s six of them – that looks to be all the people in this camp. They took… Shit, they took two Judges and looks like seven of the convicts. Santos is one of them.” 

Dredd’s eyebrow went up as he realized Santos was still alive. Cassandra had a feeling winning the little shit’s loyalty might just break open the case, and she knew Dredd well enough to know he was likely thinking the same thing.

“Can you find the camp site?”

“Yes, it’s … looks like it’s about two miles on the other side of the crash site.”

“Can we reach it without them catching us?” 

Cassandra strained, stripping every bit of terrain knowledge from the mutants that she could. “Yes, yes we can. This way!”

She set off at a trot with her body crouched over to take advantage of the slight cover offered by the rocks and cliffs around them. She didn’t need to look back to know that Dredd was right behind her, trusting her to guide them where they needed to go. That trust gave her another rush of energy, and she picked up the pace as much as she dared. She knew when they drew even with the mutants who were tracking her, but they were only barely visible in the distance and were completely unaware that their prey was currently hunting them in return. She and Dredd wouldn’t have too much time to search the campsite before the mutants figured out where the pair of Judges was headed. They’d have to be quick. 

They hurried past the crash site and onwards until they finally reached a crude campsite. The mutants had made the best of a rough cliff face, using as one side of a set of primitive looking tents made out of what appeared to be sun and sand tanned leather. She did not want to examine the fabric too closely; there was too likely a chance that the skins had come from other crashed citizens or weaker mutants. Cassandra held up a hand for Dredd to wait as she scanned the tents looking for any signs of a guard left behind or of the missing. Her heart sank as she realized there were only three lives still breathing within the tents. She shied away from examining them too closely with her mind other than being certain they didn’t belong to the camp dwellers. She’d have to see them up close too soon anyway.

She held up three fingers to Dredd and he frowned and shook his head. This time he led the way down to the camp and into the tents, trusting her now to watch their backs instead of the road ahead. Once inside the tents, they realized the small team of mutants was more impressive than they’d seemed. They had built back into the cliff instead; it was still rough and as crude as they’d expected considering the mutants likely didn’t have much in the way of excavating tools. The size of the cave shocked Dredd and Cassandra, causing them to pause. So did the … industry that seemed to be represented. The mutants were running a damned meat packing and recycling plant, or as close to one as was possible out here. There were no signs of bodies left behind of the six missing from the original nine taken. Well not signs that still looked like bodies: there were racks of meat hanging over a fire being smoked and dried (the only way any kind of meat would last in this kind of heat without a powered fridge, a tidy pile of flight suit components that had been broken down into parts instead of complete suits, stacks of fabric from the suits, and in another corner by lower smoky flames were racks of what looked to be hide pulled tight on the frames. Cassandra shuddered at what had once been a tattoo pulled out of shape on one of the frames. 

“They worked fast during the night,” Dredd said without any sign that the sickening sights were churning his stomach the way her’s was. “Check the survivors, see if we can move ‘em.” 

“You won’t be able to. They dosed us with something. ‘Sposed to knock us out and keep us from trying to escape.” Dredd and Cassandra turned in the direction of the ragged whisper and came face to battered face with the figure of Jewel Santos dangling from chains bolted to the cave wall “I got a higher tolerance to paralytics, though. Used them at the club a time or two for the high rollers. Gets easier to fight it when you’re used to it.” 

Cassandra stepped carefully over the check the reflexes of the two other hanging forms. Both were breathing shallowly, but she was unable to get them to respond or wake. Neither were anyone she recognized; nor were they wearing uniforms. She turned and shook her head at Dredd answering the question he hadn’t gotten a chance to ask. Santos apparently decided to throw in his two cents as well.

“The Judges are dead – they killed them first. Enjoyed making an example out of it - and maybe they just didn’t like Judges. Except for dinner.” He tried to laugh but just ended up coughing weakly, the rough sound making Cassandra wince despite her distaste for the little prick. “I sound petty don’t I? They didn’t bother sharing the regulators like he’s got – they said we’d be dead soon anyway.” 

Dredd stepped forward to stare his accuser in the face. After a moment he seemed to come to a decision. “Anderson, you still got a bead on the mutants?” She nodded. “Good, let me know when we run out of time.” He turned his attention back to Santos and the perp seemed to suddenly deflate. “You know we can’t take you with us. The weight would kill us out there. So here’s the deal. Tell me what you know, and I’ll kill you quickly before they have a chance too.” 

Santos shook his head slowly, but it didn’t seem to be a denial. “You don’t need to threaten or bribe me, man. I’ll tell you. The fucker already sent me to prison, and now he’s gotten me killed, hasn’t he? I’ll tell you every damn thing.” 

He coughed again, and this time Cassandra stepped forward after a quick glance and a tiny answering nod by Dredd. She pulled out one of the few water bottles she’d found at the crash site and helped the perp to take a few sips to clear his throat.

“Thanks honey. Real sweet of you and whatever.” Dredd started to step forward at the crack from Santos but Cassandra just rolled her eyes at him, and he stepped back grudgingly. “So you want to know what happened? I legitimately saw you, or a slick shit who looks a lot like you, really. I was there to see it happen, didn’t have a choice. This Judge I’ve run into a couple times for licensing violations and other bullshit – he showed up about three weeks ago and said I had to do him a favor. Witness the crime, give my testimony, and then go about my merry way.”

“Only it didn’t work out quite that way, did it?” Cassandra said softly, falling easily into the role of the sympathetic listener while Dredd held himself firmly as the antagonist. A faint smile slipped over the perp’s face as he looked from one Judge to the other, and Cassandra didn’t doubt he knew exactly the game they were playing. Knew, but didn’t care.

“Sure didn’t. What’s really fucked up – my license was up to fucking date. I took care of it last month, but somehow it just vanished from the system when they went to look it up when they brought me in as a witness. I haven’t used any extracurriculars in weeks, not since they started using the paralytics regularly at _Kushiel’s_. Uppers can interfere, and the clients would prefer that nothing interfere with their pain play, you know?”

“So he framed you, too.” Dredd’s voice held no sympathy, but Cassandra could feel the slightest bit of it bleed off him as the perp nodded. “Did he know the interrogation tactics wouldn’t work – even the psychics like her?”

Santos laughed again. “Course he did. One of other run-ins, I got pulled in for questioning. I still can’t tell you what they thought I saw or knew, but they figured out quick that the traditional techniques were more of a tease with me, you know? Then they brought in some Psy Ops kiddo to try to take a peek in my mind. Only he ended up in a seizure fast.” His eyes tracked to Cassandra taking in her wince at the thought of the other psychic’s pain. “I could tell you were there, you know. Never knew what that itch in my mind meant before that kid pulled a seizure. Figured it out after the second psychic they brought in flash fried too though.”

“They sent two?” Cassandra almost shrieked in rage, but managed to quiet herself down at Dredd’s hard look. “Two had already tried and no one made note of it or tried to make sure it didn’t happen again?”

“Guess he wanted an ace in the hole now didn’t he? Got to say, you held up better than I expected. You’re stronger than you look, aren’t you?” 

“You have no idea,” Dredd drawled, and Cassandra felt herself blush. “Alright, we have your story – now give me a name and I’ll give you want I promised.”

“No chit chat for you, huh, tough guy?” Santos went on before Dredd could do more than growl at him. “Name was Griffin. I didn’t think he was still working as a street Judge, thought he’d gotten a cushy desk job with a window at all. But I guess I was wrong.” 

“Judge Griffin?” Cassandra asked, knowing Dredd knew far more Judges by reputation than she did yet.

“Senior Judge – did more politics than patrolling as a Street Judge. Wanted the tap for Chief Judge when Fargo stepped down, but lost it out to Ayola.”

Cassandra blinked, realizing she hadn’t know the Chief’s real name until now. “Think he’s making a play to get it back. Her rep is tied to yours often enough. He might be able to force her to step down.”

“Oh he’s not going to bother with that, sweetheart. He’s got his pet doppelganger in place to just kill her. That would open up the position easier than politics will.” 

“Shit,” Dredd muttered under his breath. Cassandra thought he’d summed up the situation pretty well. Dredd opened his mouth to speak again but Cassandra suddenly let out a sharp breath, and swung her head around to stare back at the tent openings.

“One mile out. We’re out of time.” Cassandra turned back and frowned, her eyes apologetic and almost pitying as she turned back to Santos. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. The big guy’s gonna give me just what I need. He… He said he’d make it quick. He looks like the type to keep his word.” Only the slight pause gave any hint of his fear. He didn’t look afraid though, only resigned. 

Dredd stepped forward, a hint of respect now on his face. “I keep my word.” He took reached out and almost gently took Santos’s head in both his hands. Then he twisted and with a sickening crack, he broke the other man’s neck. Dredd let Santos’s head sink down to his chest, again strangely gentle, and then stepped away. “I’ll do the others. Then we’ll go.”

Cassandra found she couldn’t watch as he efficiently snapped the necks of two remaining prisoners. It was mercy, but it still felt almost too easy. Instead, Cassandra took the precious moments to grab a few more water bottles and rations from the neat piles they’d been stacked in. She wished she might have grabbed the Judges badges, but they weren’t out in the open, and she knew she didn’t have time to search for them. Hopefully, their families would understand. 

Then Dredd was beside her taking a few of the rations out of her hands and loading himself down. She also noticed he’d also found a rather battered assault rifle somewhere in the cave around them. He slipped the canvas strap of another rifle over her shoulder and then shoved rounds into one of the pockets of her flight suit.

“You’ve got point,” he told her more gently than she somehow expected. She settled herself and nodded once, as much to herself as to him. Then she turned and ducked out of the tent and didn’t look back. 

Avoiding the mutants was as easy as it had been on their way to the camp. After a trial where her gift had been next to useless, it was good to be in position to be effective and vital on their journey. She knew that her abilities were going to be key in keeping them alive. The weapons were a bonus in that direction, but having a psychic along? That could not be underestimated. Dredd was making sure she knew it too in an uncharacteristically sweet way, keeping his admiration and trust right at the forefront of his mind, guaranteeing she’d feel it as she scanned for any other mutants or rescuers who might be looking for them.

It was one thing to guess or have other people assume she was one of the few people he trusted – it was another overwhelming and humbling thing to feel it from him directly. The heady feeling of his admiration kept her energy up through the long hike back past the crash site and their shelter from the previous night and on towards the city. 

She knew by a little while after midday that they’d need to find another shelter for the night. Twenty some odd miles might have been possible for two Judges in their prime under normal conditions, but with the weight of the flight suits, regulators, weaponry, and provisions, it was clear they wouldn’t manage much more than 13 to 15 without pushing themselves dangerously. Especially considering neither of them were even remotely rested. 

Cassandra let Dredd know what she’d decided, and he began to help keep a look out for a place to stop as sun down approached. As far as figuring the safest place to rough it, Dredd was definitely the more trained of the pair. She’d had her final training mission, but from what she’d been told Dredd chose to lead the missions every two years or so, just to stay in top form. It at least explained why he was handling the rad levels and the heat as well as he was. She’d been worried the radiation at the very least would drop him before they could make it back home, but it didn’t look like it was slowing him. Granted this was Dredd, and she’d personally stapled almost a dozen bullet wounds closed in mid-fire fight for him. 

Slowing down and allowing himself to rest and/or heal wasn’t exactly a talent of his. Cassandra was fairly certain the only reason he’d rested last night or was agreeing to rest tonight was for her sake. She’d take whatever excuse he was willing to accept at this point. They both would need all their strength to deal with the coming shitstorm back at Mega City One. 

She stumbled and rethought her goal of needing their strength tomorrow; clearly she could a little strength now. 

Dredd caught her shoulder to steady her when she stumbled again and held out his free hand to point to a line of rocky terrain to her left. 

“There should be something in that mess,” he said, barely heard above the whine of the wind around them. She agreed and now followed his lead over the rough ground and into the hollows between several large boulders or small hills. Sure enough he was right – there wasn’t a true cave this time, but several boulders had fallen together in a way to block the wind and scorching sun over head and on three sides. It was better than Cassandra had expected – they could definitely wait out the night in something like that. 

They fell into the same roles as the night before with Dredd scouting the rest of the area and trying again to revive some life into the comm in hopes of trying to warn the Chief before Griffin and Rico could make their moves and Cassandra trying to make the hollow a little bit more comfortable and figuring out how much they could afford to eat and drink of what was left of their rations. They’d done their best to limit their intake through out the say, but the water level was a lot lower than Cassandra would have liked. She just hoped the city was as close as it was starting to look. By her mental calculations, they had maybe another 10 or so miles to go, and then they’d have the joy of finding their way into the city. They would likely end up stuck going through the sewer drains if they couldn’t get anyone on the comm. She was so very not looking forward to that. 

Dredd tramped back through the maze of rocks to her location, and she eyed the comm and then raised an eyebrow at him.

“Nothing. Surprise, surprise.” He settled down in the hollow next to her and accepted the ration bar and much depleted water bottle she offered him. “Looks like we’re on our own for the last leg. If we set out at dawn, we should hit the wall before midday.” 

“That’s better than I was afraid it would be. I didn’t really want to try the tunnels after dark. If I remember, it gets worse down there once the sun goes down. Well, the crowds do - the smell’s much better at night. Not great, but better.” 

Dredd tilted his head, clearly surprised that she was sharing that much. He knew of course that she’d grown up in just inside the wall, but she almost never talked about it. Her parents she mentioned from time to time, but just how bad the slums had been? That she tended to keep to herself. Cassandra shrugged back at him; she said she trusted him. She could give him this much of her past. 

“So you think you can guide us through?” he asked. She nodded resolutely. She wouldn’t enjoy it, but she could do it. “Good. First light it is then. You want first watch or second?” She shrugged again. It really didn’t matter to her. “I’ll take first then. Get some sleep while you can.” 

Cassandra finished up her ration bar and took another few sparing sips of her water. She thought about bringing up the situation they’d face tomorrow, but decided against it. They both knew what kind of political mess was to come. No use losing sleep hashing it out again. She shifted in her seat trying to figure out a comfortable spot. She was shocked when Dredd leaned back and stretched out a leg and gestured her to it. Cassandra likely stared at him stupidly.

“It was more comfortable for my last night after you let me actually lie down. I figured I’d return the favor.” If he was covering up embarrassment or a blush, she’d never know it thanks to the red glow of the sunset. After a moment, Cassandra hesitantly slid down to her side and pillowed her head on Dredd’s thigh as he’d offered.

It wasn’t that much more comfortable than his shoulder had been, but his hand in her hair was soothing, and she found herself falling asleep with a sense of contentment she’d missed the past few days. 

They didn’t talk about it when he woke her, just switched positions, Dredd sinking down onto her lap with an exhausted groan. Much to her surprise, Cassandra didn’t have any trouble staying away after that. 

The next morning’s hike was as grueling as she’d expected it to be, but they finally reached the wall and had even managed to reach it with some water still. Cassandra figured they’d trade it to some of the sewer dwellers for passage. Even as nominally inside the wall as those were, they still valued clean water and food as much as the desert dwellers might. Assuming they didn’t try to just take it from the out-of-place Judges. 

They managed to find one of the storm drain entrances without too much trouble, but it took some work to get the fucking thing to open to let them through. Dredd ended up using his rifle as a lever to force the heavy grate up enough to let Cassandra slip through. She had to throw all of her weight against it to give Dredd enough room. They ended up filthy, of course. It was a fitting start to the slog through the sewers. 

Frankly Cassandra planned to block that part of their journey out of her mind. That and to use up all of her monthly hot water ration as soon as humanly possible. She shared that particular plan with Dredd who only laughed and said she better be ready to share the water. She hoped the dim light of tunnels hid her sudden blush at the image the presented itself. Cassandra was sure he hadn’t meant the innuendo. Well, she was fairly sure. 

They didn’t come across as many sewer dwellers as Cassandra has expected – it was as if the few they did pass had seen the weaponry and warned off the rest of the community. She was just glad they hadn’t needed to use the rifles yet; gunfire attracted the wrong kind of attention down her. The lack of pausing to deal with the locals kept them moving along at a quick pace, and Cassandra was happy to discover she’d remembered the major thoroughfares of the tunnels and the tunnel markings better than she’d remembered. She’d had to hide out more than once while living in one of the megablocks closest to walls. Gang violence and political power plays had forced she and her parents out of their home on multiple occasions. The sewers had been the safest place for her while her mom and dad went to work to try to earn enough money to bribe their way back into the apartment. It’d hadn’t been pleasant, but the mutants in the sewers had known somehow that she was one of them. She’d have been accepted there permanently after her parents died. 

She would never stop being grateful she’d been taken in by the Academy instead. 

To Cassandra’s relief, they reached the exit from the tunnels into the city before she could descend any farther into her memories. After a brief discussion, they decided to strip off the flight suits. The lighter load and less conspicuous garb of a Judge and citizen balanced out the loss of protection again the remaining rad levels. In addition, Cassandra felt at least somewhat less filthy with the top layer of her clothing gone. There was nothing to be done for the wreck of her boots, but she’d get the Hall to replace them soon enough. Assuming they survived this. She and Dredd kept the weapons, of course; in this area, they’d be much less unusual toting rifles than without. It was just one of the reasons Judges usually let rad zone residents deal with their own. 

They stuck to side streets and off the main highways, both knowing foot traffic would be safer than trying to jump on any of the public transports. As they hurried along, Cassandra kept trying to get her personal comm and pad to activate on her wrist. It stayed stubbornly silent, and she just hoped it was only due to the residual radiation and wasn’t permanently damaged in the crash. They needed to get through to the Chief as soon as possible, and it wasn’t like the high ranked woman would answer a call from one of the anonymous public comms. 

She and Dredd has reached Sector 46 when a slight crackle of static finally emerged from her comm. They came to a quick halt to try to get a signal through.

Instead of a transmission, they suddenly heard the sound of gunfire exploding into the air around them. Dredd shot in to motion a beat ahead of Cassandra, grabbing her wrist and dragging them both into the dubious cover of an alleyway to their right. Once they reached the alley, both turned to return fire towards their attackers as they ran. Mocking laughter and sporadic gunfire all but chased them the rest of the way down and out of the alley. Once out on the open with little to no shelter to be found, Cassandra and Dredd turned as one to face their assailants. 

A man stalked out, his tall form wrapped in the familiar black of a Judge’s room and topped with a long coat that seemed almost too big on his frame. His careful movements spelled controlled violence to any one who was trained to see it, but it was his face that had Cassandra stumbling back until she met the solid, reassuring frame of the man behind her. A man who’s faced was doubled in the one before her. 

Rico Dredd, for who else could he be, had lost a great deal of weight in the Iso Cubes, but she didn’t doubt what remained was hard and lethal muscle. He was lean, instead of thin. His face had edges that the Dredd she knew had never held. There was a cruelty in his smile that she would never have recognized on her Dredd. 

There was also a youthfulness that should not have been there. From what Dredd had told her, Rico was the older twin so he should have at least looked Joseph’s age. Hell, he should have looked older. The active Judge had access to all the medical advancements that the Hall of Justice used to keep their most valued street Judges in peak physical condition, long after their bodies should have begun to age. Dredd had admitted to being in his late 40s, but easily appeared in his mid 30s. 

Rico looked even younger. He’d been let out and revitalized with the best medical tech money could possibly buy. Knowing it was a high ranking member of the Hall of Justice who’d done so infuriated Cassandra on a level even she hadn’t expected. It had been bad enough when crooked Judges took money to assassinate she and Dredd. This was a Senior – someone who street Judges should have been able to trust, and instead he’d plotted to murder a chief and had set loose Dredd’s murderer of a brother. 

She backed up another half step, bringing her even more firmly in contact with the Dredd’s solid form. Instead of standing firm, he shifted, guiding her beside and then slightly behind him, as if to shield her from his brother’s wicked gaze and the stares of several Judges and thugs who’d left the alley to range out behind him. Cassandra noted grimly that those few Judges were several she’d personally filed corruption reports on. It looked like those reports had ended up on Griffin’s desk. That was unfortunate. 

Dredd didn’t dare take his eyes off their attackers or to lower his rifle, but he reached back with his free hand to grip her arm in what Cassandra knew likely looked to be a sheltering gesture to the watching thugs. In reality, he tapped deliberately against her comm, and she leaned her forehead against his shoulder to show him she understood. She shifted over to his other side as if to peek out around him. She kept her gun pointed away from Dredd, but used his body to shield her hands as she quickly tapped out the command to record all audible sounds and broadcast them back to Central along with a request for assistance. She just hoped no one on the other end would be stupid enough to answer the call verbally. Just in case, she carefully switched her pad to visible only. If a call came through, she’d know, but hopefully no else would. 

Rico apparently decided he’d allowed them to suffer in silence long enough and strutted forward to call out to his brother. 

“Hey there Joe. Should have figured you hadn’t died in the crash. Glad we were watching the slums just in case. Seemed like the kind of shit hole you’d crawl out of.” He grinned and spat to the side, and Cassandra had to force herself not to roll her eyes. She wanted to ask Dredd if his brother had always been so almost clichéd of a bad boy. Rico took another few swaggering footsteps forward and looked her up and down. “So you gonna introduce me to your pretty friend or what?” Her Dredd stayed silent and Rico tsked, holding a hand to his chest in faux-pain. “Aww, that hurts me, baby brother. That hurts me a lot. You’d think we’d have some kind of bond, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” 

It took Cassandra a moment to figure out he was addressing her and not one of his goons. She chose not to answer, either, trusting Dredd enough to follow his lead when it came to his twin.

Dredd held his silence a little longer, just staring calmly at his brother. It was Rico who looked away for a split second, but it was enough for Cassandra just knowing he had broken first. That was apparently what Dredd had been waiting for.

“How about you introduce me to your friends, and then maybe I’ll introduce mine? ‘Course, I already know Senior Judge Griffin.” Dredd grinned as Rico visibly startled at the name. “I almost expected him to attend this little party, but I guess he didn’t care to dirty his hands down here in the slums. After all, he’s got his dog for that.” 

Rico’s lip curled, and Cassandra guessed the insinuation that he was just an errand boy had hit home. She decided to put her two cents in, leaning a little farther around Dredd to insert herself into the conversation.

“How long have you been his guard dog anyway? I would have thought we’d see you earlier if he let you off the leash.” 

Rico practically snarled which Cassandra figured just proved their point. “You’d have been dead before you ever got your badge, bitch. Be glad I had other things to do.” 

Cassandra grinned, and she could just barely see the corner of Dredd’s lips twitch. Rico was given way more than he planned. 

“He’s had you out over a year, then?” Dredd said, smoothly taking over the thread of antagonistic question. She hid another grin, knowing that outright mirth would likely end the game too soon. They needed to keep talking as long as possible. If nothing else, they’d hopefully be able to warn the Chief with this recording. Even if Rico gave his thugs the order to shoot. She reached out gently to Dredd’s mind and found him waiting for her to, though outwardly he gave no sign of it and instead just continued with baiting his brother. “Damn. Guess he was playing the long game. Just how long has the Chief been his target anyway – or did he just pull you loose to murder a couple of whores? That does seem more your level than a high stake assassination.” 

Rico had visibly paled as Dredd spoke, but he pulled himself together, keeping up the tough guy front for those behind him. 

“So, I guess the little rat talked. How’d you manage that? Way I heard it, he was supposed to be psy-bitch proof.” 

Cassandra allowed herself a slow smug smile. “You say that like I’m only a psychic. I’m a Judge, too. One that hasn’t had my badge taken. I paid attention during training - you just have to know what a mark really, really _wants_.”

She forced herself to keep the smile on, even though the thought of what Santos had wanted almost made her shudder. Dredd leaned back against her slightly, offering that hint of comfort. 

Rico didn’t get a chance to respond to Cassandra’s quip about being a Judge. Sirens suddenly blared, Judges poured into the street from alleyways on either side, and the Chief’s familiar voice echoed over the street-wide public sound system, ordering Rico and his men to drop their weapons and surrender.

Predictably, they didn’t surrender. Instead they opened fire, sending Cassandra and Dredd running for cover again while the fully uniformed and thus armored Judges returned fire upon the small band of traitors in the center of the street. 

Rico seemed to barely notice the number of Judges aligned against him. He was fixed on his brother and Cassandra, firing at them again and again, his face twisted into a mask of sheer hate. Cassandra thought he must have been hit, but if he was he didn’t show it; just marched forward relentlessly. Beside she, Dredd tried to fire back and then cursed when his gun jammed, and the curse again, falling as his leg gave out beneath him, a red stain spreading across his pants leg. Another suddenly bloomed on his shoulder, and Cassandra felt herself go cold and she forgot the gun in her hand.

“No!” she shrieked, and she felt her mind lash out, slamming into Rico’s with the force of a train. Something pressed back desperately, but then snapped, and there was a sickening silence in her mind. She fell into that silence and didn’t know anything for another long while.

Cassandra woke in one of her least favorite places in the world. The Hall of Justice’s Medical Ward was not a comfortable location – it wasn’t intended to be. She winced as waking brought a whole slew of gongs banging in her head, and she tried to press a hand to her forehead but found her arm strangely unresponsive. She opened her eyes slowly with a whimper and found herself looking up at the Chief sitting patiently at a chair between her bed and another in a private room. 

“There you are. The neurologist said you should wake any time now, but someone was getting impatient.” The Chief looked deliberately to the bed behind her, and Cassandra wearily tracked her gaze to find Dredd sitting up in it, bandages and a sling securing one shoulder and an IV in his other elbow. He smile softly to see her awake, but he still seemed worried. The Chief continued speaking. “You’ve been unconscious for nearly 4 days – apparently psychic shock from an extreme overstretching of your gifts compounded by the physical hardships the pair of you had been through forced your body to shut down temporarily. I wouldn’t recommended trying it a second time. They weren’t totally sure you would wake up for the first few days. That would have been a pity.” 

Cassandra tried to think back to figure out just what hardships they’d been through, and she winced again, this time at the memories of what had knocked her out. 

“Did I kill him?” she asked, almost afraid to look Dredd in the eye. Murder and sociopathy or not, Rico had still been his brother.

“No, you didn’t,” Dredd answered, and she let out a relieved sigh.

“He won’t be a threat again, though,” the Chief added. “You broke his mind.” 

Cassandra shuddered and swallowed back bile. Somehow that seemed far worse of a crime. Though if she hadn’t, she knew without a shred of doubt, Rico would have managed to kill his brother. Compared to that, tainting her gift was absolutely the lesser of two evils. She shook her head slowly, and was somewhat relieved to discover the move didn’t make her head pound any worse than it already was. 

“So now what?” she asked, hoping the Chief would have some answers for her. 

“Now, you rest and heal. Griffin has been stripped of his badge and weapon and sentenced to exile into the Cursed Earth, and Rico is back in an Iso Cube. Dredd has been reinstated, and will be back on the streets as soon as his wounds are healed.”

“Not alone,” Dredd broke in, looking straight at Cassandra. “Not ‘till my partner’s healed up, too.”

Cassandra felt a wide, stupid grin stretch her lips at the implication, and even the Chief was smiling fondly as she looked back and forth between the two. 

“If I’d known this would have gotten you to agree to a partner, I might have let Rico run loose years ago.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference years ago,” Dredd replied quietly, his eyes still locked on Cassandra. She felt herself blush again, and then looked to the Chief almost panicked at the thought that the other woman might have noticed. The Chief only smiled slyly and stood before turning her attention back to Dredd, her gaze holding a wealth of conversations that Cassandra apparently hadn’t been privy to. 

“I expect the paperwork regarding the change in status by next Monday morning. You’re both taking the next week off. You’re welcome.” With that the Chief turned and left the room, getting the last word as always.

Cassandra eyed her new official partner, still muzzy from the drugs and almost certain she’d missed something. “Change in status?”

Dredd smiled slowly, almost shyly. “From ‘single.’”

“Oh,” Cassandra said still confused. His smile faltered a little at her response.

“Is that … I mean … if you want it to?” he asked haltingly, his forehead creasing in worry. She blinked.

“Oh. Oh.” Her eyes went wide as his meaning finally sunk in. “Yeah. It’s … yeah. You’ll have to fill mine out for me, though. I’m still a little blurry.” 

His smile bloomed again, and she beamed back, finally feeling her pain subside. “I can do that. Yeah, I can do that.”


End file.
